


a man whose heart is hollow

by orphan_account



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Angst, Breathplay, Breeding Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, Spanking, this started off as a pwp but became something else entirely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-02-01 23:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12715533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ‘If only the people of Republic City could see you now,’ he says. ‘The great Avatar Korra, on her knees and begging for it.’





	1. Chapter 1

She has learned to gauge his moods, to know when he is angry, or when he is upset. Today he is quiet. When he is quiet, he moves like a ghost. He barely touches her, instead watching her with his head tilted to the side almost curiously, as though it’s his first time seeing her. It makes her shiver with anticipation. 

On those days, he makes her do the work. She figures he’s tired - probably had a long day of promotion, training, fighting, going about his life without her. She imagines him training a new recruit - a girl like her, with dark skin and hair, bright eyes filled with the need to please. She pictures him humming approvingly and nodding ever so slightly as he teaches her the correct stances, the chi-blocking, everything. She pictures the two of them in his office after hours, his hands on her body, teaching her some more, the girls’ moans carrying through the room. The image makes her angry. It’s irrational of her to feel this way. But she does. Okay, she thinks to herself. If he wants it, he can have it. She’ll work him all night long, so that when they part he’ll still be trembling from the feel of her around him, until he doesn’t think twice about anyone else, until she’s all he can think about in his silly meetings and speeches, until his willpower breaks and he’s back for more. 

Tonight he is standing in the corner of her room, blending in with the shadows as he waits. Korra rises from her bed, nipples already hardening as she moves the covers off and makes her way towards him. Still, she leaves some distance and doesn’t embrace him straight away. She lets her silk gown fall from her shoulders, the pale blue fabric pooling onto the floor like water. He says nothing, nor does he move. So she pulls her shirt off, yanking it over her head and tossing it onto the floor. And then she slips out of her pants, and then her underwear follows. She might be imagining it, but she’s sure she saw him shift the tiniest amount. She smirks internally. Korra walks towards him and reaches out, slowly. He still doesn’t move, not even when she takes his hand in hers. The flesh is surprisingly warm. She stands there for a while as she runs her fingers over the callouses, the fingertips, all the way down to his wrist. His fingers barely twitch in response. Not good enough, Korra thinks. She clasps his hand and leads him towards her bed until he is sitting on the edge of it. Then she climbs on top of him until she is perched somewhat comfortably in his lap, wrapping her arms around him languidly in a soft embrace, her lips pressing against his ear through the hood of his uniform.

‘I missed you,’ she whispers quietly.

He stirs slightly, but still doesn’t reach for her. So then she kisses him - places her lips against the cold, wooden mask where she pictures his cheek would be. It’s a simple, almost innocent move, so unlike what they usually do, and he sighs almost silently in response. To her delight, she feels him begin to harden under her thighs. 

‘Did you miss me too?’ she whispers, running her hands over his front, up and down, rubbing at the heavy material slowly. He doesn’t speak - he rarely ever does - but she continues anyway. ‘It’s been four days since you last came. And each night I had to pretend you were here with me. I touched myself-’ She pauses to touch her own collarbone with a finger, tracing her dark flesh downwards until she lifts herself up and reaches between her legs. She doesn’t touch the folds, not yet. But she rubs at the mound with her hand for the briefest moment before she sits back down in his lap, leaning into his warm neck, inhaling his musky scent.

‘I touched myself,’ she repeats, ‘But it wasn’t good enough. It was nowhere near. It wasn’t you.’ 

Korra exhales slowly. ‘During my airbending training,’ she tells him, ‘I had to meditate for hours. But I couldn’t sit still. All I could think about was you fucking me till I scream, filling me up, making me cry. I got so wet, right there in the temple, with everyone around me. I had to go and excuse myself. I went to the bathroom and fucked myself on my own fingers, but no matter how much I tried, it just didn’t feel the same.’ 

He shifts. This time she can tell he is rock hard, his length pressing against her thigh, hot and heavy, but he still won’t move or touch her. So she starts rocking back and forth, grinding against the harsh cloth of his uniform, trying to fit them together.

‘I pictured myself on my knees for you,’ Korra murmurs. She pushes her chest against his and feels her nipples rub against the thick material until it sends shivers down her spine. ‘Do you want that? Should I get on my knees?’

He remains silent and immobile. The pinnacle of self-control, she thinks with a tired smirk. She can never win, Korra realises. Any other man in the city would be weeping with lust if Avatar Korra were in his lap, hot, naked, ready, desperate, but he won't even move. He’s too disciplined for her. She can't understand it. She can’t win. But, she decides, she can enjoy the ride for as long as she can. 

They wait like that for what feels like an age; she grows wetter by the second. Beads of sweat form at her temple. The cold eyes of his mask stare at her silently as she begins to pant and turn dizzy with lust and impatience, writhing in his lap. It’s almost cruel how much he makes her want it, need it. She can never win. It’s crazy how quickly she can come undone before he even begins.

‘Please,’ she whispers after an eternity of silence, voice so weak she barely hears herself.

He says nothing. She knows he is waiting for more, and he won’t be the first to crack. So she moves. Korra removes his hands from her body, frowning at how his fingers don’t even twitch longingly, and pushes herself backwards until she is kneeling on the ground in front of him. He stares down at her impassively, giving nothing away. 

Korra reaches for his clothing, fingers finding the buttons almost instinctively and moving the material to the side so his erection springs free, and he inhales sharply. She is pleased - she has some effect after all. 

She reaches for his cock with a finger. When she traces it from the base all the way to the head, tantalisingly slow, he lets out a small huff. She repeats the movement, making sure to use only one finger. She rubs at the tip where the precome is quickly gathering, and then moves back down to the base, which she circles almost diligently. Then Korra extends all her fingers and reaches for the length once more. She wraps her hand around his cock and begins moving up and down, in the slow but strong movement she knows he likes - up and down, up and down. He shifts forward a little bit and she smiles to herself. The warmth of his length in her hand and the fluid oozing from the tip makes her forget about the soreness of her knees on the cold marble floor of her bedroom. All she can think about now is how much she wants her lips around his cock and his seed spilling down her throat. Her mouth is watering at the mere idea of it, and she knows better than anyone that she has never been a patient girl.

He wasn't expecting her to start nosing at the hairs at the base of his cock, because when she does, he makes his first real sound of the night - the slightest, quietest moan. If she wasn’t so attentive, she would have missed it. But she heard it. And Korra smirks into his crotch. This is what she’s been craving for days, this is what she’s been waking up aching for. 

She turns her attention to his hot, heavy balls, taking one into her hand and rubbing and squeezing as she licks at the other, alternating between the two until he lets out another moan, louder this time. Finally some real progress. But she’s growing wetter and wetter and she doesn’t know how much longer she’ll be able to wait. She is yet to touch herself, though it’s all she can think about.

She focuses on his cock. If he is going to be She wraps her lips around the tip and suckles at the precome as though she’s thirsty. He sighs loudly, and his fingers move to her hair as though to run them through her hair, but at the last second he stops himself and places them back by his sides on the bed. Dissatisfied, Korra licks at the slit, swirling her tongue around the tip like a lollipop. And then, without warning, she licks at the entire length, up and down, mimicking the movement of her finger from earlier, only faster this time. 

She wraps her lips around the tip. And then she gets to work. 

Korra hollows her cheeks and sucks his cock into her mouth as far as it can go, nose inching closer and closer to the wiry hairs of his crotch, swirling her tongue around his hot hard length with a satisfied groan. This is what she’s craved for so long, the feel of it, the taste of it strong and heady around her lips and in her mouth, filling her up. She pulls off with a pop and licks at it his cock with harsh strokes of her tongue, desperate for it, before focusing back on the tip where she suckles at the precome, sucking it all up until he moans - the loudest one of the night so far. Smiling, she returns her attention to the length, wrapping a hand around the base and pushing it into her mouth until it’s filled again. Then she removes her hands and repeats the movement, shoving his cock into her mouth until she feels it hit the back of her throat. 

Above her, he lets out a long, low groan. She won't gag - she knows better. But she pulls free for a deep breath and to eye him curiously. He is watching her, panting. Korra reaches for his hands and smilingly, she places his palms on top of her head. Instinctively, his fingers curl around her hair, gripping tight.

She returns to her work, pleased, filling her mouth up again with his member, sucking it in as far as she can and licking diligently as she does so. She moans once more, finally rewarding herself by reaching down to play with her wet folds, to stroke at the wetness coating her inner thighs. When she slips a finger in and whines around his cock, he tightens his grip on her hair until it stings slightly. She trembles with desire, pulling away, and she sucks on her own tongue to savour the taste of his salty fluids in her mouth, as though trying to memorise it. She looks up at him with wide eyes and sighs happily, licking her lips with a grin.

‘You taste so good,’ she breathes, ‘Amon.’

That is when he breaks.

Every man has his limit, she knows. And he is a man after all. He fists his hands in her hair and yanks her head back, making her cry out. Then he grips her by the chin and squeezes - a warning. What he hates more than anything is when she is noisy, and she doesn’t want to displease him - not when she’s come so far. 

He stares down at Korra silently, but she knows he is shaking. She feels it. She is shaking, too. She opens her mouth wide, knowing what will happen next. 

He shoves her face back into his crotch without warning, and his cock enters her mouth and hits the back of her throat so hard and so sudden she groans and gags despite herself. Flushing from desire and shame, she braces herself as he pulls her head back up and gets a good grip before he starts fucking her mouth at a relatively slow pace, lazily pushing his hips up to match the movements of his hands. He fucks at her mouth like that for a few moments, pausing every so often to collect himself and shift on the bed above her, leaving her nose buried in his balls. It’s so filthy and so degrading, and she loves it. Then he resumes slamming his member into the wet caven, letting out a deep sigh and tightening his grip on her head. Korra does her best to breathe through her nose and swirl her tongue around him as much as she can. Her mouth was made to take his cock, her full lips designed to wrap around the hardness of his length, her tongue made to lick at the salty come. Korra moans. 

Finally, he speaks. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs, voice deep and full of approval. ‘Such a good girl.’

She whines and begins instantly touching herself, pushing her fingers back between her folds and into her pussy. She tries to finger herself to the the thrusting of her hips, but she’s so desperate and dizzy with lust that she soon gives up and just begins shoving them in haphazardly in anyway that feels good. She rubs at her clit furiously, focusing on the sensitive spot and knowing she’s close. The only thing preventing her moans from echoing through the entire temple is his cock shoving itself into her mouth and silencing her.

Her orgasm hits her like a truck. Her vision goes completely white and her body shakes as she climaxes, falling onto him as all energy leaves her body. He pays her no attention and keeps fucking into her until he reaches his own peak, pushing harder and faster and tugging at her hair so her scalp aches from pain. Knowing he is using her like a toy makes her moan tiredly against him.

Then, with a groan, he pulls her off his cock and comes in her mouth, shoving her head back into his crotch and keeping her there, nose pushed against his flesh so she can barely breathe. His hot seed spills down her throat and she pushes herself back up and swallows eagerly, drinking it in, inhaling his scent deeply now she knows the end of their night is here. When he’s finished, she doesn’t let him go. She continues nursing at his cock until he softens, desperate to keep the taste of him in her mouth and his flesh around her lips because she knows she’ll be dreaming of it for days, but he grows sensitive and pushes her away gently. 

She she sits back and licks at her lips with a pout. ’You know, you can come on my face,’ she tells him. ‘I can handle it.’

‘Always so demanding,’ Amon sighs. ‘You do look rather delicious with my cum all over you.’ He reaches out to touch her mouth, rubbing the flesh of her bottom lip with his rough thumb, pulling away before she can lick it. ‘But believe it or not, Avatar, I’m tired.’

He sits there, shoulders slumped, and she realises the extent of his exhaustion. If he were to remove the mask and show her his face, she’d see bags under his eyes, tired lines around the corner of his mouth and eyes. 

But he doesn’t remove the mask. He buttons up his pants and uniform almost robotically and then stands up, silently stalking towards the window of her bedroom, boots soundless against the floor. She watches him silently. When he reaches the window he turns to her, expression as unreadable as ever, and says in his deep voice, ‘I won’t be back for a while. I have a lot of business to attend to.’

Korra shrugs and turns away, trying to appear nonchalant. ‘I can be patient,’ she says indifferently. 

He makes a sound that might pass as a laugh if they were in a different time and a different place. ‘I’m sure you can, Avatar.’

And then he is gone into the night. Korra waits there for several minutes, heart pounding out of the foolish, foolish hope he might return, but he doesn’t. Eventually she rises from the cold floor and slides back into her bed, hugging herself tight, savouring the lingering warmth from his hands in her hair and the ache in her scalp until she drifts off into a dreamless sleep.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok im back cuz i saw some dope amorra fanart on tumblr ...

She’s walking into her room after a long day of (failed) airbending training when she sees someone shift by the window. She’s bored and tired, but Korra spots him at once. It’s dark, but not dark enough for him to blend into the shadows as he usually does while he waits. He steps forward before she can make a witty remark, stalking over to her and grabbing her by the wrist, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp, and then squeezing even harder to shut her up. 

Korra realises, in that brief moment, two important things. The first is that he is angry. He only ever starts this - this twisted little game they have going on - by grabbing her if he is angry. The second is that his anger is not her fault. She is practically incapable of angering him. Annoying him, sometimes. Like when they’re both naked and she’s on top of him, teasing his cock by slipping it between her folds but not actually inside her. Things like that can annoy him, make him grunt and growl in a way that only makes her even more excited. He can get frustrated, too, when he’s hungry for her and grabbing at her body but she plays coy, pulling away from his touch like she doesn’t want it just as bad. But anger? Rage? Never. Not because of her, anyway. Korra knows, as disappointing and frustrating as it might be, that she cannot make him truly angry. She does not mean that much to him. 

The second thing she realises is that his anger, wherever it might stem from, will be used against her tonight. He usually waits a while before getting rough, but if he’s gripping her wrist this hard so early on without caring if she cries out, it means he’ll be taking it out on her. A shiver goes down Korra’s spine and she knows it’s not entirely from fear. 

They stand there like that for a moment, him holding her arm, standing close enough to see the beads of sweat forming at her temple, his cold eyes staring at her silently. Korra stares back at him, inhaling slowly before she looks at the floor, suddenly finding his deep gaze unbearable. And then, without warning, he yanks her forward so their chests touch. He leans in and murmurs in her ear, ‘Turn around’. Goosebumps rise on her skin, but Korra does as she is told.

As soon as she has turned around, he shoves her, placing a hand on the small of her back and pushing hard. She stumbles forward with a cry, falling onto the bed on her belly. Immediately, he marches forward and grabs her by the hips, pulling her up so her ass is in the air. Korra turns her head around to look at him, heart pounding with the thrill of it, but he shoves her head down onto the pillow. She is facing sideways, staring at her dressing cabinet and the window curtains blowing gently in the breeze.

She doesn’t speak - she doesn’t dare to. His grip on her waist is far too tight, and the slightest whisper from her might set him off even further. Korra doesn’t want to risk it. She fears him, and he knows she fears him. Even after they began playing this game, he still features in her nightmares, robbing her of her power and strength so she wakes up shaking from pure terror. 

He rubs his hands over her clothed backside for several moments, pausing every now and then to squeeze at the covered flesh. Korra stifles a moan. Despite it all, despite the anger, despite the fear, she’s still anticipating what happens next, and she’s growing impatient for him to get on with it. As if reading her mind, he slides her pants down - the bottom half of the garish orange airbending outfit she was forced to wear, the one that makes her look like an oversized child in pyjamas. She flushes even though he can’t see. He slides the pants off her entirely instead of just shoving it down, balling the material up and tossing it to the side. Her underwear is next as he takes his time sliding the cloth down her body. Korra flushes again, and because she knows it will have an effect on him, she grins as she moves from side to side, swinging her hips slowly so as to tease him.

Suddenly, he smacks her. He slaps her ass hard enough to make her gasp, and then he slaps her again. The sound of his rough palm colliding with her bare cheek echoes through the quiet room, and Korra’s heart pounds at the idea of being heard and caught. But the pain brings her back to earth. It hurts. A lot. He didn’t hold back at all. She gets up to balance on her hands and look back at him, afraid and confused as to why he hit her. 

He looks back at her evenly, the blank face of his mask giving absolutely nothing away. But then he speaks. ‘Each time you make a noise,’ he tells her, ‘That’s one more.’ His deep voice is cold and void of any mirth or amusement. 

She shivers again, turns back to the wall, and tries to brace herself for when he hits her again because she knows it is coming. But when he slaps her, it sends a jolt of pain all over her ass and down her thighs so powerful that she cries out.

He hits her again, moving onto the other cheek this time. He smacks her ass with that big, heavy hand so that she snaps, ‘Fuck!’. Korra’s ass is stinging furiously, and she knows there are bruises forming - bruises in the form of handprints. How humiliating. 

She turns back to look at him. He’s rubbing his hands over the abused skin now, and it feels good. But even so, she snaps at him, ‘Stop it.’ She’s getting angry, despite herself. He’s grabbed at her, pushed her around, held her tight as he fucked her, but never forced her into this position just so he could spank her like a naughty child. 

Suddenly, Korra’s eyes widen in realisation. He’s doing this deliberately. He wants her to feel humiliated. He wants her to feel like a naughty child he can discipline and control. Because isn’t that what this game is to him? A place for him to exert his control over someone he knows won't doubt his strength and power? Someone who, ultimately, fears him? 

She pictures herself unable to walk straight from the bruises all over her ass, unable to sit still in the temple as she meditates from the aching and stinging from the marks her left her. The image looks so delicious, and she finds herself growing wet. Yes, now she knows she wants it just as badly as him. She wants him to slap her ass until she cries, until she begs. She wants him to leave those marks so the purple-blue contrasts with her dark skin, to make her feel it not for days but for weeks. She wants that power and that strength to be used on her, because she needs it. She needs to lose control. And more than anything, now that he’s started, she needs him to deliver. 

As if reading her mind, he stops running his hands over her ass and grips at the painful skin, digging his fingers into her flesh and then pulling back to slap her, again. Now that she’s ready for it and aware, she doesn’t make a noise. She bites her lip hard so that no sound escapes, even though it was a particularly hard hit. He pauses, surprised, and she knows that under his mask, he is smirking. 

He continues to hit her many, many more times in the minutes that follow. At first, she handles it rather well. She faces the wall with a glare, determined to deliver on her own part. When his palm collides with her ass, she inhales sharply as the pain explodes and stretches out over her skin. She digs her fingers into the bedsheets, hair damp with sweat, mouth falling open but still silent. He might be angry, but so is she if he thinks she’ll surrender so quickly. 

In response, he begins hitting her harder, revealing he has indeed been holding back all along. He smacks at her ass angrily, as though it personally offended him, even grunting at one point to show the extent of his rage as he brings his hand down with enough force that she collapses onto her belly, face shoved against the pillow so that even if she did make a sound - which she didn’t - it would be muffled. The pain is almost unbearable, exploding all over her skin, and her ass hurts so much it’s growing numb to the touch. She knows her rear is a hot, bright, angry red against his pale hand. 

And yet, all Korra can think about is how wet she is. Her folds are growing sticky from her juices, her clit throbbing, demanding her attention. When she reaches up to touch herself, he smacks her again furiously and hisses, ‘No.’ She does as she is told and brings her hand back to grip the sheets, but remains quiet nonetheless, shoving her face deeper into her pillow. A groan is in the back of her throat, desperate to be let loose, but she doesn’t dare. She won’t give in yet. 

But then he starts to talk. He stops smacking her ass and returns to merely rubbing at it with both hands. His palms are warm now, must be stinging after all the fun they’ve had, but they still feel so good against her skin. She pants heavily, pulling back from the pillow so only her forehead is pressed against it. 

‘Look how wet you are,’ he says. His deep voice is still so measured and controlled. She wonders if he’s even hard after all this play. ‘I haven’t even touched you,’ he continues scornfully. She doesn’t know if he’s talking about her sex or if he knows how much the spanking is getting to her. ‘But that doesn’t matter. You’re such a dirty whore that any attention I give you would be enough. Wouldn’t it?’

At the words 'dirty whore' Korra almost, almost lets out a whine. But she doesn’t. She continues to pant heavily as her clit throbs in agreement: yes, it would. She is a dirty whore. She’s his dirty whore, and she needs him so much that even a glance in her direction would be enough. As though reading her mind and satisfied with what he learns, he moves the fingers of one hand lower and lower down her ass until she feels them against her folds, his touch as light as a feather, moving further still until he finally presses her clit.

At that, she gives up. She can’t bear it any longer. Korra lets out a moan, pushing her ass up further and spreading her legs to grant him more access as though instinct, determination be damned. Ignoring her, he brings his fingers back up so that they’re dancing along the flesh of her ass in lazy strokes. 

‘Want me to touch you, is that it?’ he asks. ‘Want me to fuck you? Or should I spank you some more?’ 

Korra hates him. She absolutely hates him. How can he be so calm and collected when she’s on the verge of screaming? But she knows the answer. She knows he needs moments like this to assert his confidence and self-control, to prove himself not only to her - his greatest enemy - but also to himself. The man behind the mask (whoever that may be). 

Whatever his reasoning, she quickly finds she doesn’t care. She’s going mad from desire, the ache on her ass and between her legs growing so violent that she can’t think straight for much longer. 

‘Touch me,’ she whispers, the shame almost suffocating her for a brief moment before it evaporates into the mix of desire and frustration that lingers around them both. 

For the third time that night, he leans in close to talk to her, sliding his hand slowly from her ass and up her back so that it curls around her throat. He whispers in her ear. ‘Beg.’

Korra inhales sharply. She breathes out for a long, long moment, collecting herself. Again, she does as she is told.

‘Touch me,’ she whispers. ‘Please, Amon. I can’t wait any longer. I need you.’

She gasps as he squeezes her throat without warning. It’s not hard enough to choke her (not yet) but enough to make her inhale sharply, his rough calloused fingers wrapping around her slender neck, making her feel so vulnerable and small in his large, steady grip. It sends shivers down her spine, makes her rock from side to side as she goes dizzy from the desperate desire he must be able to smell on her. 

‘If only the people of Republic City could see you now,’ he says. ‘The great Avatar Korra, on her knees and begging for it.’ 

He removes his grip from her throat so he can unbutton his uniform pants, allowing her to rise so she can return to balance on her hands. The anticipation only fuels her further. She waits for his fingers to return, to touch and caress at her folds, but they never come. His hands grab her waist and pull her back, and to her utter shock, he is sliding into her in one smooth movement. 

She is wet enough for there to be no resistance, but Korra cries out anyway at the feel of his long, hard cock shoving into her without warning. He ignores her and begins thrusting in and out of her rapidly, grunting with exertion, showing the true extent of his own desire that has been kept under wraps for most of the night. She can barely keep up with what’s happening, but her cunt clenches around his length anyway as he slams into her painfully. He’s fucking her so hard and so fast that it hurts, and she collapses onto her stomach yet again with her mouth open and her ass still up in the air as he continues to move.

‘This is what you wanted,’ he chokes out. ‘Isn’t it?’

Korra would nod if she could, because it’s true. This is exactly what she wanted, what she’s been waiting for since she saw him standing there. But she can barely even think. All she can do is feel him sliding in and out of her with such ferocity that the pain of it starts to rival the aching of her ass. But that makes her even wetter, as does his utter refusal to touch her clit and bring her to her climax. He’s just - fucking her. Fucking her until he’s satisfied, until he’s had enough. It’s like she’s not even a person, just a hole to be used. It’s completely degrading and frustrating and would, perhaps on another night, make her blind with fury, but tonight she drools into her pillow as she tries her best to push her hips back and move in time with him as he fucks her. 

With another powerful thrust, he grunts and speaks again. ‘You look good like this,’ he remarks. Another deep thrust and they both pant. He tells her, ‘This is a position for breeding, Avatar.’ 

Korra shudders. She begins trembling. He’s right. It’s an image that’s been in the back of her mind since he entered her so forcefully, but she didn’t dare let it play out. But here it is. He’s fucking her like he’s breeding her. It’s true. Her clit screams for attention.

‘A position fit for a cheap slut like you. Picture it,’ he tells her, even though she already is. ‘How lovely you’d look pregnant. With your belly round and your breasts heavy with milk as you carry my child. Mine,’ he murmurs. ‘Not that little firebending loverboy of yours. Mine. Just as you are mine, Avatar Korra. It would be quite the scandal. But it would be worth it, wouldn’t it? I know you want it badly. Want me to fill you up with my seed again and again, until you become pregnant. So young and so ruined. It’s fitting for such a whore like you. You want it so badly, want my come inside you. And even if you didn’t want it, who would stop me?’

No-one would. Especially not her. Because it’s all true. All she can think about is him coming inside her, knocking her up with his baby, showing her once and for all just how much he owns her. That little firebending loverboy. She would laugh if it wasn’t so terrible. The fact that he thinks she’s even looked twice at Mako since these nightly meetings first began is hilarious. How could she look at anyone else when she knows her place, when she knows she belongs - and will always belong - to him?

He reaches forward to grab her by the hair, yanking her up like she’s a ragdoll. Her scalp stings as he tugs her up so that her naked back is pressed against his clothed chest, and he wraps a hand around her waist to hold her in place as he continues to snap his hips up into her. The new position makes her mouth fall open in sheer pleasure, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. It feels sinfully good, and she groans when he grabs at her chest and pinches a nipple, squeezing at the heavy breasts. When Korra reaches between her legs to touch her neglected clit, he slaps her hand away, hard.

‘Don’t you dare,’ he hisses, and she doesn’t.

He’s nearing his climax, she knows it, and he has no plans to touch her at all. His thrusts grow erratic, almost desperate, and her heart pounds in fear and anticipation. He pushes her back onto her belly and pounds into her, sliding his length in and out with an angry focus as he grunts. Suddenly, he slaps her ass and the pain explodes on her rear again. Korra bites her pillow to stop herself from screaming as he does it again and again until he leans forward, the pain mingling with the pleasure of him fucking her, and Amon comes with a low groan, thrusting into her one last time as he leans over her. 

He spills into her, coming deep inside, painting her walls with his thick, hot cum. Korra’s hole clenches around his cock, thirstily accepting his seed and milking him for even more. And despite it all, despite not being touched, Korra comes at the image of him returning the following night and fucking her again selfishly, breeding her until she finally gets pregnant with his baby. Or perhaps he has already done it, already fucked her hard and deep enough. The Avatar, pregnant with Amon’s baby. It would ruin her. And it’s the knowledge of it that makes Korra push her face into the pillow and moan, climaxing so hard she blacks out for a brief moment. 

He stays like that, cock still inside her, panting until every last drop is deep inside where it belongs. When he has finally softened, he pulls out of her, ignoring her whine, and swiftly begins to compose himself. He lifts his pants back up, buttoning his clothes and rearranging his uniform as she uses the last bit of energy she has to roll onto her back and watch him through lidded eyes.

‘You never fail to surprise me,’ she murmurs. ‘Who would’ve known the great Amon has a breeding kink.’

She sighs as she turns onto her side with a smirk, knowing he’s about to leave but still wanting to retain some of her confident, playful self as her insecurity and shame catch up with her. ‘I can’t blame you. A lot of other creepy old guys in this city want to get me pregnant, too, according to all the creepy fanmail I get.’  
He looks down at her impassively, all trace of his former unravelled self gone. ‘Don’t be an idiot, Avatar,’ he tells her. ‘You having my child would ruin me just as much as it would ruin you.’ 

‘Which is exactly why you’re relying on my waterbending skills to make sure it never happens,’ Korra says, voice dripping with snark. ‘Huh. Funny how that works.’

He remains quiet, but she can tell he reluctantly agrees and wants her to get on with it. She wants to play with him a little further, however. Besides, she has no intention of doing it in front of him. 

‘Don’t worry,’ she assures him, yawning deeply. ‘I’ll get it out first thing in the morning. Every last drop of your precious Equalist cum. If I remember, that is.’ 

He stiffens, but then he realises she is merely joking and makes a quiet noise of frustration, turning away to walk over to the window. And then he is gone. Korra wraps her blankets around her and surrenders to sleep, a small smile playing on her lips. There is hope for her yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> should i do a part 3? if so what should i add? ^_^


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg thank you so much for 500 hits! and thanks to everyone who left 'kudos' on this story! i really hope you're enjoying this work and if you have any comments, questions, suggestions, etc. please share them, it honestly makes my day to see you guys comment on my work!! 
> 
> anyway, im back with another chapter! this fic is taking over my life. as i mentioned in chapter one, i got into the amorra fandom pretty late, so im in that crazy mood of trying to read and write as much fanfic as i possibly can. 
> 
> so with regards to this chapter, if you wanted pure smut i am sorry because this one contains lots of dialogue and ~feelings~. i couldnt help myself, and suggestions from some awesome readers really made me think. the shit theyve been getting up to needs to result in some sort of turmoil, right? the reality of things have to catch up with them somehow. and since i lack the prowess to write a story with complex political intrigue, the turmoil will be purely emotional in this fic. and it will mainly be korra suffering, because i cannot write amon to save my life.
> 
> ok i know literally nobody is reading this .... so.... peace

It’s a cold and foggy morning on the island, quiet save for the horns of a few ships every now and then, but Korra pays it all no mind as she focuses instead on trying to connect with her spiritual self - whatever that means. She’s been sitting on the cold balcony floor in complete silence for the past three hours in a pitiful attempt at meditating, as still as the statue of Aang that she can barely see through the mist. She gazes at him and wonders for the millionth time since she started how on earth he ever managed to do this. How he managed to flawlessly master both sides of being the Avatar, how he ever managed to face his own demons and eventually, defeat the greatest threat the world had ever seen.  


But Aang is gone. His time has passed, as Katara put it ruefully all those weeks ago, when Korra was a foolish hot-headed brat ready to take the world by storm. And even if he were here and able to give her advice, Korra wouldn’t have the strength to face him. Not after all she’s done and who she did it with.

Even now, the bruises on her backside still ache as she sits on the hard stone floor. She’d tried to heal them away, at first, because she couldn’t stand looking at them. The sight of them made her sick to her stomach, especially the dark purple ones in the shape of handprints. He’d left bruises on her before, but only when she urged him on, and none had ever been quite as deep as these. He’d marked her so rigorously, to the point where lines had been crossed - irreversibly, she felt. 

As Korra slept that night she dreamt he was with her again, taking her from behind. His thick, hard length plunged into her wet cunt so hard and so fast she was weeping with pleasure and gripping the sheets in her fists, moaning wantonly. He was fucking her so deliciously hard and fast that Korra completely failed to feel the strong hand that was wrapped around her throat creep up higher and higher until his thumb was pressed against her forehead, pressing hard. And then, without warning, he did it. He blocked her bending, removed it, once and for all. And then he pulled out of her, the cold eyes of his mask laughing at her as Korra screamed and he spat, I told you I would destroy you.

She woke up with a scream, covered in sweat, shrieking so loudly that Pema had rushed in with a panicked look and spent a full hour fussing over Korra until the girl promised her it was just a dream, she was just homesick and a little stressed over her new responsibilities as the Avatar, she just needed some more sleep, and could she please not mention anything to Tenzin? Pema had reluctantly agreed and let Korra go back to sleep, closing the door behind her with a deep frown. But Korra had merely stayed awake curled up in a ball with her sheets wrapped around her tight, staring silently at her window, trembling in the fear that he really would return. And when Korra went down for breakfast, Tenzin was indeed looking at her funnily, but she quickly left before he could interrogate her.

That had been weeks ago, and she’d been avoiding everybody since. The others were growing concerned after she cancelled plans and meetings multiple times in a row. But she could hardly bring herself to care - she was a traitor, wasn’t she? What right did she have to laugh among them and enjoy herself in their company when she was sleeping with the man who threatened to tear all that happiness apart? How could she put on a brave face in front of them and play up the role of Avatar Korra when she was being called a cheap whore, a worthless fucktoy, a filthy slut and moaning in hungry agreement, when she was being slapped and spanked and fucked nearly every other night by a man who went against everything she stood for and represented - everything her ancestors fought and even died for? And how could Korra even look at herself in the mirror and not feel nauseous with the knowledge that she'd enjoyed every single second?

She couldn’t. So she isolated herself, not caring the impact it would have on her relationships. It would be just another thing he took from her, after all. And to her relief, he didn’t visit her a single time in the weeks that passed. Part of her hoped he never would: the nightmares gradually passed, and she took comfort in the cold spaciousness of her bed. But part of him wanted him to - needed him to return, for reasons she didn’t entirely know.

 

 

 

 

He does return, eventually, a few days later. It’s very late at night, but she’s not in bed. Korra sits in the centre of her bed gazing at the wall, slowly running a comb through her hair. It’s a beautiful pale blue comb that was gifted to her by her mother on her sixteenth birthday, one of the few things she couldn’t bear to leave behind when she escaped to the City. The moon is surprisingly bright, and she has pulled the curtains to the side to enjoy the cool night air, letting the moonlight flow through the room.

She flinches when she hears him arrive. He grunts softly as he pulls himself up onto the ledge of the balcony, landing gracefully on his feet before walking into the room, his boots silent on the floor. She watches him stop with his back to the wall and tries to control the pounding of her heart. He stands there with his arms crossed behind his back like a soldier, his stoic and impersonal stance giving nothing away. Korra slowly puts the comb down on the bed beside her and gathers all the strength she can muster to do so.

‘I didn’t think you’d return,’ she tells him. ‘It’s been over a month.’

He grunts noncommittally. ‘You should know by now that I am a very busy-’

‘I didn’t miss you,’ she interrupts him coldly. ‘I was hoping you’d never come back.’ 

Even to her own ears, she sounds childish. But it makes him stir. He tilts his head to the side in curiosity as he observes her. When he speaks, his voice is ice. ‘I find that very hard to believe, Avatar, because the last time we met, I made you come without even touching you.’ 

She blushes furiously at each word and her chest tightens. Despite herself, Korra feels her eyes filling with tears at how helpless and angry she feels. She hates him so, so much, but the worst thing is that it’s true. All of it. He’d degraded her and used her, and she had enjoyed it. 

She is at a loss for words. All she can do is glare at him with wet eyes, hoping he won’t notice her tears and comment on it. Thankfully, as if taking pity on her, he quickly changes the subject. ‘But as much as I enjoy our nightly games, I’ve been very preoccupied this past month. I’ve had plenty of business to attend to.’ 

‘Business,’ Korra scoffs. ’You mean this isn’t business?’ She fists her hands into the soft fabric of her nightdress, her face twisting in barely concealed anger that threatens to erupt from her like a volcano - she has no idea where it’s coming from after all these weeks, but rage is better than the lethargic misery that’s been consuming her all this time. ‘You’re saying this isn’t one of your plots? This isn't just another way for you to break and d-destroy me?’ 

Amon stands there, completely unperturbed by her behaviour. ‘I wonder what brought on this tantrum,’ he says. ‘Another failed day of airbending practice? Or perhaps I’ve just forgotten how young you are.’

There’s no bite to his tone, no real anger or frustration, which enrages her even further. Enough of this. She won’t let him continue to disrespect her in her own home. 

Korra rises from her seat and points to the window as she snaps, ‘Leave. Now.’

The pure anger and desperation in her tone makes him shift. He can tell she isn’t being playful or coy tonight, that she doesn’t want him to pin her down and fuck her. He lets his arms drop to his side, clenching and unclenching his fists in annoyance. ‘We had an agreement, Avatar.’ 

‘Fuck your agreement,’ hisses Korra. ‘I’ve had enough of this. I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore.’

‘Why? he asks simply, as though he’s genuinely confused.

‘Why?’ she repeats, trying to contain her voice despite wanting to scream in frustration. ‘Are you fucking kidding me? I’m the Avatar! You’re Amon! We’re at war, in case you forgot. This goes against everything we believe in. How do you think people would react if they found out we were - we were -’

‘Fucking?’ he suggests. Korra flushes again and to her horror, she feels a teardrop fall from her eye and onto her lap. She sniffs, rubbing at her eyes quickly and looking down at her lap, and the sight seems to affect him because he’s suddenly walking towards her until he is at the foot of her bed, standing there for a brief moment as though unsure of what to do. 

And then he sighs. Amon actually sighs and sits down next to her on the bed, close enough for her to feel the warmth emitting from his uniformed body. When he speaks, his voice is quiet and lacking of its usual authoritative tone.

‘Do you take me for a fool?’ he asks. ‘I am well aware of how people would react if the true nature of our relationship became common knowledge. We would both lose legitimacy and the respect of our peers. I know all of that, Korra. And perhaps I am to blame. I am much older than you are, and I am the one who instigated this affair, after all.’

He says her name, Korra, with such gentleness it surprises her. She’s never heard him speak so much before except for at rallies, and not with such a measured, human tone. He continues speaking, very carefully choosing his words. ‘However, I was under the impression that during these nightly meetings, we could forget all of that. That I would cease to be Amon, and you would cease to be the Avatar.’ 

Korra exhales slowly. With that, she knows, is the implication that he would be leaving behind everything that made him Amon, including what has haunted her the past few weeks - the possibility of him taking her bending. 

As though reading her mind, he says, ‘I understand you feel vulnerable in moments like these. And I cannot change that. There’s only so much one can ignore.’

That startles her, too. Korra had half-suspected he would make an empty promise about never hurting her or taking advantage of her, like a desperate lover-to-be, and she suspected she would try her best to cling to any truth she could find in such a statement. But the helpless honesty in his voice takes her by surprise, and she finally looks up at him and speaks.

‘If I’m not the Avatar,’ she whispers. ‘I can be Korra. But if you’re not Amon, who can you be?’

He remains quiet for a long time, not moving as he stares back at her through his mask. And then he suddenly gets up and stalks over to the window in swift, measured steps. Despite herself, despite knowing the suggestion she made was absolutely outrageous - of course he’d never reveal his identity, of course he’d never give her his real name - Korra’s heart falls in disappointment and sadness as she watches him leave. 

But he doesn’t leave. He merely grabs the curtains and yanks them closed, robbing the room of any light whatsoever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiii im back. this chapter doesnt have the same intense smut from before and is a lot slower and more ""romantic"" with lots of thoughts and contemplation amidst the smut, or 'Porn with Feelings'. im sorry if thats not ur kinda thing xx  
> ALSO lol amon might be 'ooc' but like dude if hes sexing korra up generally then surely thats ooc to an extent too?? am i right? ??  
> lol

Korra’s heart begins pounding as the room is plunged into darkness. It’s pitch black and she can barely see her own hand even if she brings it up to her face. Does he mean to kill her now? To take her bending? Were his comforting words just a ploy meant to relax and distract her?

Her years of battle training kick in before she can curse herself, and Korra forces herself to sense his presence in the room. She feels him moving towards her, like a shadow. He approaches her slowly, as though he’s approaching a fragile and easily-frightened deer. But it’s true - she is frightened of this man, this man that has given her plenty but also taken away just as much.

He is sitting on her bed again, this time close enough for her to feel his clothing shift gently against her bare knee, the warmth of his body radiating from him as he inches closer on the mattress.

‘What are you doing?’ she demands, eyes darting around wildly, willing herself to see. 

‘Shh,’ he says, and reaches for her.

Korra feels his hand touch the back of her palm. She inhales sharply as he takes her hand in his larger one, so gentle it is almost timid, pulling it towards his body slowly and raising it higher and higher up, up, up until -

Her hand is holding the side of his mask. 

They stay like that for a long time, breathing quietly into the darkness. Korra’s fingers clutch Amon’s mask so that if she simply pulls her hand to the side, even very lightly, it will come off. Adrenaline courses through her veins, but she doesn’t dare move, worried the slightest shifting of her body will set him off and he’ll react. But she can’t help but wonder if he feels, in this moment, just a fraction of the fear he resonates within her. The vulnerability and the knowledge that your power is literally in someone else’s hands. 

As if reading her mind, he suddenly whispers, ‘Do it.’ 

Korra inhales sharply, her heart beating so loud she’s sure he can hear it. She brings another hand up, fumbling a bit clumsily due to the darkness until it’s grasping the other side of what she has always considered his face. Her fingers are curved as they tighten their grip on the mask. 

Before she can reconsider, she takes the mask off his face.

There are no loud explosions, no screams, no dramatic music that starts playing in the background as she brings her hands back to her lap. He doesn’t lunge for her, furious that she would dare remove what has protected him for all these years. He does inhale a little, and his body tenses up just the slightest bit, but all in all it’s a rather anticlimactic event, particularly since Korra cannot see his face. The darkness is too strong, cloaking everything in pitch blackness. 

She blinks and tries to focus, tries to make out a curve of his nose, a jawline, even those cold yellow eyes, but nothing. 

Anger rises up in her like a flood. Is he trying to mock her? To show her she will never know him the way he knows her? That she will never overcome this bridge between them? She makes a rude noise with her teeth, fury overtaking her previous fear and nervousness, and in a movement so sudden and angry she surprises herself, Korra throws his mask as hard as she can. It collides with the wall by the window and falls down to the floor, clattering onto the ground noisily. 

Immediately, she tenses up. Someone must have heard such a loud noise in the middle of the night, surely. And now he is sure to get angry with her. He has never tolerated the slightest hint of disrespect from her during their past encounters, and had been so determined to subjugate and tame her, and Korra has never done something so wild before in front of him.

But instead, he merely sighs - a small noise that’s more resigned than it is annoyed. And nobody comes rushing to her door, knocking anxiously to ask what’s going on. Perhaps her room isn’t as close to the others’ as she thought, or perhaps everyone on the island are deep sleepers. Or, perhaps, she is just ridiculously lucky. Considering how close they’ve come to being caught in the past, the latter seems more likely. 

Korra lets herself relax a little bit, but not too much, leaning backwards on the bed and waiting for him to make the next move, waiting to see if he truly means to mock her or not.

He reaches for her again, but this time he does it slowly and more deliberately so not to disturb her. She feels his hands on hers again, his large fingers wrapping around hers. Not for the first time in the evening, she is struck by the sheer warmth of his hand, and how it seeps into hers. 

He mimics his earlier movement by raising her hands up to his face, and Korra’s heart begins beating rapidly again. There is no mask there to hide it anymore, doesn’t he realise that? 

Before she can stress over the reality of it all any further, Korra’s hands are on his face.

What strikes her first is how soft his skin is. A small part of her, locked far away, has a joke ready about how the mask must be good for skincare. But she doesn’t dare speak; barely even breathes, only letting out a slow exhale as she keeps her hands frozen on what feels like his cheeks and the curve of his strong jaw. It is a face she has dreamt of many times, imagined what it would look like; whether the lips would be full, the cheeks red from the cool air, the eyes warmer without the frightful mask placed in front. 

And though she still can’t see it - and perhaps she never ever will - she can at least touch, for now. That is what he means, Korra realises with a jolt. That in this moment, he can be who she wants him to be. Soft, gentle. Normal. Someone who pretends.

Tonight he is giving her this part of himself. This part he most likely has never given anyone else, never shown anyone else. This part that he has shut tight and stowed away for years and years - it is now with her, to do with it what she pleases. 

The fear Korra thought he must have felt when her hands were on his mask must be magnified now. His body is even tenser, but not as though he’s about to attack. If anything, it’s like he’s getting ready to run. The knowledge of it sends a chill down her spine. 

Korra caresses his skin with her fingertips almost fondly. She runs her fingers over his face, painting a picture with her mind. His eyelashes; longer than she expected. She imagines his eyes, a rich gold, fluttering shut as she touches the lids. His nose; a little on the long side, firm and straight like a nobleman’s. His cheeks; the skin is so gentle under her fingers as she prods at him like a healer, and he’s so still and patient like a parent waiting for a curious child that her heart swells up and threatens to burst and she’s not sure why. 

His lips - her favourite part of his face, she quickly decides. They are full and impossibly soft. She runs her fingers over them again and again, imagining what they would feel like against her own, and then she realises she doesn’t have to simply imagine. She smiles to herself and leans in.

When she presses her lips against his, it’s like he’s been waiting for it since he first took off the mask. He breathes out and pushes against her lips firmly. They stay like that for a moment. And then Korra inches closer and closer and wraps her arms around his neck, kissing deeply. He pulls away for a second and she can imagine him blinking in surprise at both her and himself, at the absurdity of the entire situation, but then he’s moving closer again and his hands are on her hips and he’s kissing her back.

It’s the first kiss they’ve ever shared. Korra’s kissed him on the mask before, but only as foreplay, really, to get him in the mood when she’s been waiting and needing him all night. But now, he seems so fragile and close and real. His lips are even softer on hers; she breathes in his scent and clutches him tight, leaning in even further pressing his body against hers, trying to bring him closer and closer until they blend into one, and it doesn’t make much sense to her but as she curls her fingers into the hairs at the nape of his neck and feels him tighten his grip on her waist all she can think of is more. 

They kiss for a long, long time, separating every few moments to catch their breath before they’re leaning in again. He likes to peck her on the lips softly, pull away, and then lean back in to capture her lips in a dizzyingly deep kiss. Korra is less patient and less collected. She bites at his bottom lip, toying at it between her teeth until they part and dives her tongue into his mouth. He makes a low noise, a perfect combination of satisfaction and frustration as she explores the soft wetness with her tongue, searching, tasting, satisfying a craving she didn’t know she had. Before long, he is kissing her with the same ferocity. But it’s not really ferocity, it’s passion, and she didn’t know he was capable of such a thing. He runs his tongue against her bottom lip before pushing his tongue into her mouth, mimicking her earlier movements in a way that makes her giggle into his mouth, and to her utter joy he laughs back; a quiet huffing noise that makes her heart soar. 

They are both drunk on each other. 

They keep kissing and kissing, and before long his hands begin to roam. At first, he reaches up and runs his fingers through her long hair. She remembers how the only other times he’s touched her hair is when he’s yanking her back to get a better angle as he fucks her, like last time. But now he moves his hands softly, his fingers massaging her scalp as he kisses her languidly, and because she doesn’t know any better Korra can trick herself into thinking it’s an apology for the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. 

Korra moans into his mouth as he begins rubbing his hands up and down her sides, the friction of the fabric and the warmth of his hands seeping into her skin so that goosebumps rise. When she moans, he pulls away and begins kissing her all over her face. It’s a surprising and unexpected move that makes her laugh breathlessly, and is distracts her pretty well because she doesn’t know he is taking hold of her shoulders and pushing her down gently against her bed until she can see the dark shape of his body looming over her.

A mixture of excitement and dread takes over her senses. But before Korra can squint and try to make out the slightest image of his face, or ask him what he means to do, he is kissing her again. The new position makes things even more thrilling, washing away all the anxiousness and replacing it with a throb of desire deep within her. She is laying on her back, head propped up slightly by her pillow, between his hands and legs that are on either side of her body. She clutches his elbow a little helplessly as he moves in closer and kisses her in a way almost as though he’s drinking her up, the warm moisture of his lips, his tongue, the soft wet inside of his mouth quickly becoming some of her favourite things.

When Korra is about to rise up from her pillow to meet him halfway, he quickly pulls away again and begins kissing her on the cheek - a soft, chaste peck that he repeats on the bottom of her jaw. It’s the type of kiss someone would give their lover after a long day without them. It’s the sort of kiss that doesn’t need to be intense and filthy and passionate because there’s the unspoken fact that there will be time for that later. It is the type of kiss that is more loving than anything else, and the idea of this man, whoever he is, having it in him to love is what takes her breath away for the first time that night.

Korra stares up into the darkness and imagines his face, imagines his eyes darkening with lust and concentration and love, love for her, and she sinks even deeper into her dreams as he begins kissing her throat. She lets out a low, quiet moan as he kisses his way down her collarbone and takes some of the skin between his teeth and bites down, hard enough to make her heart flutter but not hard enough to draw blood. Still, he repeats the action, biting at her throat and then pulling back, licking at the skin and lapping at it with his tongue. There will be bruises and marks tomorrow, and the day after, and for many days to come. But that is not her concern, not right now, not while he is kissing and biting and sucking his way down her throat and collarbone, focusing on her and only her with an intense, almost religious focus. 

He reaches a few inches down her collarbone, the top of her chest, the last bit not covered by her nightdress, and pulls away from her with a loud, wet kiss that echoes through the room. It’s a comically loud noise and Korra lets out a laugh, unable to help herself.

‘Shh,’ he says again, a little out of breath.

He pulls away again and Korra instinctively thinks he will begin pawing at her clothes now that they’re in the way of his lips. But instead, to her utter surprise, he begins taking his own clothes off. She freezes, eyes widening even though she still can’t see. She hears the shuffling of his hands as they take off his rough, thick Equalist uniform piece by piece, and for some reason her heart is pounding even harder than it was when he took off the mask. Perhaps it hadn’t sunk in, yet, that he was truly going to expose himself - or some side of himself - to her. And now, as she hears his clothing fall softly onto the floor by the bed, tossed away casually as though it doesn’t represent him and his entire movement and his entire identity, things feel so much more - real. Before long, he has taken off all, if not most, of his clothes, and the warmth his body was radiating before is now magnified as he sits beside her on the bed.

Her throat goes dry, and she cannot imagine how he must be feeling. Afraid, no doubt. But all she hopes is that there’s no regret. His bare leg brushes against her covered one as he reaches for her soft nightgown, taking some of the fabric by her waist between his fingers and tugging gently.

‘Can I?’ he asks.

Korra exhales slowly. She nods, but then realises the darkness will prevent him from seeing the movement of her head, so she makes a quiet noise of approval. He breathes out as though he’d been afraid of her answer. Him, afraid of her. This night is bringing many surprises.

He moves his hands to her knee and takes a more firm grip of her dress, begins lifting the material up and off her body. The cool air hits her skin at once and sends a chill down her spine. He continues to take her dress off and she sits up slightly as he pulls it over her chest and then her head, before dropping it by the bed and onto the floor with his own clothes. Korra’s nipples harden in the cold and she fights the instinct to cover herself with her arms, even though he cannot see, even though she has stripped off of her own accord for him multiple times. 

He reaches for her again. His hands brush against her belly, pressing his fingers against the firm muscled abdomen, his feather-light touches making her inhale sharply. Korra feels the pangs of desire at how close he is to her sex, how if he dipped his fingers just a bit lower he’d find her folds and her pleasure.

But instead, he shifts his position, moving up higher and leans in close once more. And then he kisses her in the middle of her collarbone, that same innocent peck from before that makes her heart swell, and he begins kissing down her chest.

When he reaches the top of her breast, Korra gasps. He doesn’t comment, but instead traces his way down with his tongue, tantalisingly slow, until he reaches her nipple. He takes the bud into his mouth without giving her any time to prepare, running his tongue over it roughly. Korra lets out a whine, the throb between her legs making her reach out for his body and she wraps his arms around him and pulls him close. He moves to her other breast and begins lapping at the nipple with his tongue, circling the bud in the same manner, taking it into his mouth and sucking deeply. His skin is warm under her fingers and when she feels him take her nipple between his teeth and tug slightly, she whines as the electricity thrums through her entire body, all the way down between her legs. As though humouring her, he releases the nipple and bites at the top of her breast; not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to make Korra run her fingernails down his back in sheer pleasure. He repeats this with the other breast again, and she’s never felt like this before, never had him pay that much attention to these parts of her besides a rough, crude palming at her chest that was more for his own pleasure than her’s. But now he is giving her all his attention and his focus and the feel of his mouth on her body is akin to worship. When his lips are wrapped around one of her breasts, he reaches up and begins fondling the other with his free hand, twisting the nipple between his fingers, squeezing at her large, heavy breasts, his big rough fingers delicious against her soft skin. Korra grips him tight and turns her head to the side and tries to control the volume of her moans, and the feel of his bare body in her arms makes the pleasure even sweeter. 

Before long she is soaking wet, certain there are wet spots on the bed underneath her. She spreads her legs a bit and feels the stickiness of her folds as a result of his tormenting. Her breasts are swollen and her nipples have grown sore from all the sucking and licking. He pulls away from her breast with a final suck and brush of his tongue against her nipple, making wet popping sound not unlike the humorous one from before, but Korra is too drunk with lust to laugh.

To her utter frustration, however, he continues his kissing game, moving past her breasts and now working his lips down her belly, where his fingers had pressed against her firm flesh earlier. But then he moves down, his whole body shifting as he takes her by the crook of her knees and lifts them up, and she realises what he means to do.

When she feels his lips against the inside of her thigh, Korra bites her lip and holds back a moan that she knows will echo through the entire room if released. He kisses the skin there before inching even closer, tightening his grip on her legs as he kisses just a few inches from the wet heat between her legs. She feels him let go of one of her legs to reach for her sex, his fingers stroking at the mound, dipping lower and parting the soaking wet folds and she bites her lip again, piercing her own skin so not to cry out. But then he removes his hand entirely and Korra growls on instinct, a low guttural noise that immediately embarrasses her.

He huffs out that delicious little laughter again, and she flushes. As though in apology, he returns his fingers back to her wetness, stroking carefully up and down as she throbs in longing and desire for more, and he dips his fingers into her with just the slightest bit of pressure. It feels impossibly good, after all the torture and teasing, but it’s still not enough. As though answering her silent plea, he leans in even further.

Korra lets out a gasp when she feels his tongue against her folds, replacing his fingers. She arches up off the bed and digs her fingernails into his back as he licks at her, the slow movements of his tongue against her folds making her eyes roll back into her head in sheer pleasure, each time his tongue presses against her intimate flesh making her tremble. His licks grow even stronger and rougher, and he shifts again to get a better position as his tongue pushes inside her wet heat with an intense, searching desperation that make Korra whine. Every inch of her is alive and awake, desperate for him to give her more, already craving that hot hard length to slide into her and fuck her silly. But he takes his time. He pushes his tongue in and out of her, slowly but firmly, and then he begins licking at the swollen clit that has been crying for attention for what feels like an eternity. She cries out as soon as she feels his tongue on her aching clit, tears forming at the corners of her eyes as the pleasure she thinks is impossible to top increases even further when he reaches up to sink his long fingers into her cunt, pushing further and further as he laps at her throbbing sex with rough, firm strokes of his tongue. 

She moves her hands from his back and digs her fingers into his hair, his surprisingly silky, longer-than-she-expected hair, imagines the locks that must be as inky-black as the night being tugged under her dark fingers as he fucks her with his tongue. He is drinking her up as though the taste of her juices are intoxicating and addictive to him, and perhaps they are, and perhaps Korra has never quite felt, and will never again feel, power like this before. Her entire body is alight, burning as he runs his tongue up and down her wet slit, lapping up her wetness as he fingers her with fluid, firm movements of his hand, her desperate cunt soaking his digits as she grinds against his palm, the pleasure making her pant aloud and her mouth fill with drool.

She reaches her peak quicker and more suddenly than she expected. When she lets out a little gasp and shuts her eyes tight, he reaches up to slap his palm against her mouth, and she is grateful because she screams her way through her climax. The force of it hits her like a train as she bucks against the hand that is still playing with the aching flesh between her legs, every part of her body coming to life, legs shaking furiously and her vision going white. She collapses back onto her bed with a groan, completely spent.

She is vaguely aware, in the moments that follow, of him stroking his hard length and grunting quietly into the air. She smiles to herself a little foolishly; this is the first time he has touched himself all night. A part of her, a part that is already drifting very far away, thinks there may be something that can be said of that fact. But she doesn’t have it in her to do little more than breathe heavily and stare up into the darkness as she comes back to Earth. 

Before long he reaches his own peak, the sight of her climaxing so hard most likely speeding things up for him. He lets out a harsh grunt and Korra feels his hot come splatter onto her belly and her chest, quickly cooling in the night air. Finally, she closes her eyes, but she can feel him rising off the bed. So it’s finished, she thinks to herself, and he is leaving. The night had to come to an end at some point. They enjoyed this while it lasted. And the magnitude of not what they just did but how they did it will be a problem for tomorrow.

But he doesn’t leave. Korra hears his quiet footsteps against the marble floor and feels the bed dip under his weight as he sits back down beside her. He wipes at her chest and belly with a fabric, cleaning her up in movements that are so hesitant it’s like she is something fragile he does not wish to break. When he is done, he discards of the tissue and then remains sitting there on the bed, beside Korra’s sleeping form. If the lights were on and she could see him, she knows he would make for a rather sorry sight. Confused and out of place.

Korra reaches for him and he tenses up. But she persists, silently urging him to let her have her turn. She takes him by the elbow and pulls him down. He resists, at first, but before long he is laying down on the bed beside her, long limbs spread out, discomfort radiating from his body like a heater. Korra won’t let him stop there. She uses the last bit of energy she has to inch closer to him. And then she takes a deep, deep breath and reaches out to wrap an arm around his chest. It is one of the bravest things she has ever done. He freezes, and she is half-afraid he will push her away and give up and just leave, ending their little game of pretend right then and there. But slowly, he begins to relax under her touch. Korra inches even closer, pressing her body against his so that they fit like the pieces of a puzzle, and she buries her head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. It is the scent of sweat and salt and something else, something she cannot pinpoint. But as she breathes him in, she knows he is a man, and the fact comforts her.

They stay like that for a long time. Korra relaxes once more and the earlier drowsiness catches up with her, though she is desperate not to fall asleep, not wanting to end things just yet. When the morning comes, he will be gone, and the spell will be broken, and she wants to pretend for as long as she can. She lets out a yawn, and then another, blinking slowly into the darkness as she thinks of everything and nothing, of how she still cannot understand how warm he is, like a furnace, of how she would give all she has to get the barest glimpse of his face, of how his name might sound on her lips, of what his mother’s smile looks like, of how his hair might be a deep brown in the sunlight, of how there must be a way, some way this doesn’t have to end here. She blinks back tears, frowning. There must be.

He moves and shifts his body so that he is also on his side, head on the pillow and facing her, taking his arm out from under her body and wrapping it around her waist in a way that mimics her positioning. She inhales slowly as he pulls her in closer for a half-embrace. If the lights were on, she would see his face, the widening of his eyes, the dilating of his pupils as he drinks the sight of her in, the parting of those soft full lips. Korra reaches out and touches the details of face again, clumsier and less guarded than before. And again he humours her, lets her take her time running her fingertips over his lips and eyelids and eyebrows and nose and chin.

They remain that way for a long time, arms wrapped around each other as the moon they cannot see rises up higher into the sky, as they sink deeper into the long night. She burrows her head into his chest and sighs. The warmth would be unbearable if it were anybody else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is...really shitty...and im sorry :(   
> but ive had an awful week and writing this has helped me feel better. i hope you guys enjoyed this to some extent even tho its all over the place. i tried really hard. lol  
> ANYWAY so i listed that the next chapter will be the last because this was never meant to be a really long project and i felt like 5 chapters is like ..a good number and enough. but ive got no clue at the moment on how to end this fic. how do you think i should finish this work? share your ideas and thoughts below pls!! i take them on board! 
> 
> and thank u so much for reading, commenting, leaving kudos, etc.!! <33333 it always makes my fuckin day pals and leaves me grinning.  
> im gonna go sleep now cos im exhausted af and kinda wanna pretend this week never happened. my dreams better be juicy as fuck!! im tired of reality yall. peace!! and hope you had a better week than me!! <3 <3 <3


	5. Chapter 5

After that, something between them changes.

He begins to cling to their nightly meetings just as desperately as she does. In the evenings that follow, he reaches for her with a firm determination, no longer interested in mind games or claiming control. The dam that previously held him back has been destroyed; he pours himself into her with each movement of his hips, each touch of his strong hands.

He wraps his arms around her as he moves in and out of her, letting out deep groans of pleasure with each thrust, holding her so tight it’s like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. Korra knows that feeling, recognises it instantly, because it is one she harboured herself for the longest time — the feeling she is nothing without him above her. He comes undone, bit by bit, and all Korra can do is grip him tight, mouth wide in pleasure and awe. 

He still insists on the darkness, and makes sure the curtains are shut tight before he makes his way towards her. But eventually, she begins to steal glimpses of his face. Some nights the curtains flutter in the cool breeze, letting in drops of moonlight that illuminate his features. Some nights he is simply unbothered with making sure no light gets in, and is far more concerned with pulling her body close to his. She realises her guesses were rather accurate. He is handsome. Of course he is. Korra tells him so, running her fingers over his elegant face as he lays beside her. In response, he gives her a small smile and shuts his eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some things stay the same, however. They don’t talk. Some nights she wants to desperately to take things even further, to tell him about her day, about her hopes and dreams, her family in the Southern Water Tribe, or that funny thing that happened to her earlier. But that would be crossing a line they’re both wary of. Korra’s big mouth would let something rather big slip, something that might endanger people — the real people that exist beyond this imaginary space they’ve created. And the unspoken expectation would be for him to tell her things, too, and he would never play along. She lays beside him in the dark, running her fingers through his hair, and she lets herself imagine a life where things are different. Where they’re not sworn enemies and can enjoy meetings like these on a nightly basis. Where he can talk to her and tell her things, like his name and his past and where he’s from and what his mother looks like. Where they don’t need to rely on the darkness to shield them from reality.

Some nights she does not imagine at all. She gets angry with him and with herself for being so foolish. How could two people be so naive to think such an arrangement could last? Her anger might come from nowhere, but it is often provoked by her seeing couples out in the open. The image of her own friends in relationships, arms around each other languidly, blissfully enjoying each other’s presence with no fear of retribution, judgement, or an unhappy end. A comment made by Jinora, asking if she’s ever been in love or if she’s ever had a boyfriend. The anger rises within her, but it is anger with herself more than anybody else. 

When he reaches for her on those nights, she turns away from him on the bed, slaps his hands away again and again until he knows what she wants. Not to be coddled, but to be made to forget.

Gradually, he learns. She’s uncertain if he’s playing along, or if he is genuinely angry — and her inability to make sure sends a chill down her spine. When she slaps him away for the fifth or sixth time, he grabs her by the wrist and pulls her body towards him with barely any effort. She gasps as he takes her by the hair and yanks her head back. He bites at her lips, her neck, her collarbone, the combination of pain and pleasure making her tremble. He throws her onto the bed so that she lands on her stomach, and she fists the sheets, taut with anticipation as he lifts her up by the hips and pulls her backside close to him. It is only fitting that he take her from behind. She doesn’t trust herself to look up at him. She might reach for him, might wrap her arms around him and hold him. No, this is much better.

He rips her dress, tearing the fabric open to gain access to her body, and begins roughly fondling her ass. Korra grins into her pillow as he squeezes at the soft flesh of her buttocks, parting the cheeks to run his fingers down her hole and her slit. This is what she wanted, what she needed all along. This is why she began this entire arrangement in the first place, because she needed someone to use her like this, to own her and make her his. They were both fools to try and bring emotion into it and to get so attached to one another. No, this is much better.

He runs his hands up and down her ass cheeks slowly. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmurs with genuine appreciation, and she shivers.

No. That’s not what she wants. She urges him to lift his hand up and smack her (damn him for turning something so twisted into such a delicious thing), but he does not. It’s like he knows what she wants and is deliberately denying her. She turns her head to the side to give him a furious glare, but the eyes of his mask look back at her blankly. 

With a growl, Korra turns back around, shoves her head into her pillow, and lifts her hips up even higher and rocks them from side to side, offering herself to him. He should be inside her by now, fucking her hard and fast, and she should be lost in the pleasure. The thought of it makes her throb. But still, he continues to stroke her body lovingly. 

Finally, to her utter relief, he speaks. ‘What do you want?’ 

Korra lifts her head up and turns to look at him. ‘I want you to fuck me.’ The clarity and determination of her own voice surprises her, and it must surprise him too, because the movement of his hands still.

He says, ‘Why?’  
Korra pauses. She hadn’t thought he would ask her that. The throbbing between her legs has grown so insistent that she merely scowls and snaps, ‘Do you want me to beg? Because I can—’

He slaps her, the palm of his hand colliding with her ass so sharply and angrily that she cries out in pain. Ignoring her, he says, ‘If I want you to beg, I will tell you to beg. No, Avatar,’ he hisses, the title dripping with loathing, ‘I want you to tell me why _I_ should fuck _you_.’

Korra’s heart is pounding with fear. She inhales shakily and tries to recollect herself, tightening her grip on the sheets. This is what she wanted, after all. ‘I-’ she begins, trying to think. 

Dissatisfied, he slaps her again. Korra whines as her ass stings furiously, her whole body shaking. 

He says, ‘Surely you could find someone else to fuck you. Being the Avatar comes with its fair share of suitors, does it not? What about that firebender boy? Or even his earthbending brother?’ At the thought of Mako and Bolin in such a private, dirty moment, Korra lets out another whine and shoves her head into the pillow, trying to drown out his voice. But it rings in her ears as he says, ‘They could fuck you, I’m sure. They could take turns fucking you from behind, like this.’

He rubs her ass again like she’s a piece of meat. Korra hates herself for it, but she pictures it. She pictures them taking turns, their strong arms holding her down as they slide into her, heads thrown back in pleasure as they use her like the cheap slut she is. 

‘Or better yet, one could take you from behind as the other fucks your mouth.’ He yanks her by the hair as she shrieks, but the noise is drowned out as he shoves his fingers past her lips and into her mouth. Korra sucks at the digits and he laughs coldly, shoving them in even deeper, stretching her lips. ‘See? See how much you want it?’ 

She does want it. She wants it so bad. She needs him inside her, but he simply removes his fingers from her mouth and releases his grip on her hair so that she collapses back onto her front, face down. 

‘Are they not good enough for you?’ he asks her softly. ‘You know they won’t be able to fuck you like I do.’

‘Please,’ Korra whispers into her pillow, her eyes filling with tears. 

When she feels his fingers on the back of her thigh, slowly inching towards her slit, Korra lets out a muffled moan. She inhales sharply as he finally touches her folds, using two fingers to part them and stroke her entrance, ignoring her clit entirely. 

‘Or maybe _you’re_ not good enough for them,’ he says. ‘You’re a whore, after all. I told you I would destroy you and everything you loved, and in response you spread your legs for me. I could have forced you, but I didn’t have to. You let me in so easily.’

He sinks his fingers into her, inch by inch. She trembles as they move deeper and deeper inside, and he hums in satisfaction. 

‘You wanted me so badly. You would take anything I gave you.’

She shakes her head as he slides his fingers out and begins rubbing her clit, and she lets out a heavy sob, shoving her face even deeper into the pillow as her body trembles with pleasure.

‘Anything,’ he continues, and she can hear the smirk in his voice, so poised and certain. ‘So you see, you were made for me, Korra. And you knew, from the very first time we met, that I would make you mine. And I have.’ 

He resumes fucking her with his fingers, roughly and harshly, and Korra’s pillow soon dampens from her drool and tears. 

‘You are mine,’ he tells her, like it is the most simple truth there is. He angles his fingers inside her so they hit that spot just right, and she keens, nodding desperately.

She’s not sure when he removes his pants, but when she feels his thick length slam into her, Korra’s mind goes blank. He feels so good inside her, his cock stretching her so beautifully. She urges him in deeper and deeper, feels her insides clench against him. She was made for him, it’s true. Nothing has ever made her feel so complete. She would take anything he gave her, do anything he wanted. 

He fucks her hard and fast, using her body almost carelessly, each snap of his hips angled carefully so that before long, she is screaming into her pillow like a banshee. He comes inside her, of course, spilling himself deep into her, his thrusts relentless even as he softens, and Korra doesn’t want to get rid of it, wants to keep his hot cum inside her, wants to be filled with his seed forever, consequences be damned. 

When they are finished, she begins to cry. Korra sits up in bed, crosses her legs and weeps like a child. She’s not sure why, because after all, she got what she wanted. But the swirl of emotion inside her is like a storm. She cries and cries and cries, overcome by fear and sadness and self-loathing and desperation. She feels guilty for forcing him back into a role that took him so long to shed. 

But he understands. He takes off the mask, places it on the nightstand, and he wraps his arms around her, stroking her hair softly. It’s so different from the harsh monster he was just a few minutes ago. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t comfort her by whispering sweet nothings in her ear. He’s just there, and that’s enough. The tears take even more out of her, and before long, she drifts off into a deep dreamless sleep in his arms.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

She’s not surprised when he ends it.

She’d been expecting it for a while. The nights had become a confusing fluctuation between him fucking her harshly and spitting insults over her, and the two of them making love in the darkness, clinging to one another desperately. The lack of routine and the unpredictability of it all hurt them both more than they were willing to let on. It would be painful for anyone else to keep up with her emotions, to play along so regularly, and even though he’s shifted between roles with a startling fluidity, she’s still surprised they lasted so long.

The war outside their bubble continues to rage. Korra’s training is growing more and more intense by the moment, as does her frustration with herself. Some days she’ll hear snippets of Amon giving his regular speeches on the radio, promising victory in the upcoming ‘inevitable’ war against the tyrannical benders. She’ll scoff and try to ignore his words, keeping her brave face carefully on, but the doubts and anxieties set in anyway. 

It comes after a particularly rough night. Korra aches all over, certain she’ll have bald patches in her scalp from how hard he pulled her hair. He fucked her mouth, sliding his delicious cock past her lips and down her throat again and again, grunting above her before pulling out roughly and coming all over her face. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing away as he laces up his boots. Korra watches his back carefully, fingers itching to touch him.

‘We can’t keep doing this,’ he says when he turns back to her. ‘This arrangement of ours has to end, Korra.’

She knows he feels guilyt from the way he says her name. Not ‘Avatar’, but Korra. Despite his attempts to sound authoritative and distant, he says it apologetically. 

She looks down at her feet and frowns. ‘Why?’

The question sounds hollow, even to her own ears. She says nothing and doesn’t move as he sighs, gets up and makes his way around the bed beside her. Korra refuses to look into his masked face as he kneels down in front of her and reaches out to touch her face.

He strokes her cheek with a knuckle, runs his fingers across her lips, caressing her features softly. This time it is him trying to memorise her face. She reaches up to clutch his wrist and finally looks at him, tries to gaze into those golden eyes that are already drifting so far away. 

He doesn’t tell her why. Instead, he takes her face in his hands, pulls her close and kisses her deeply. It leaves her breathless, how much of himself he pours into it. His lips are soft against hers, the warmth of his hands dizzyingly good against her cold cheeks, and before long he is slipping his tongue into her mouth and exploring the warm depths urgently. 

She sighs when he pulls away. He kisses her on the corner of her mouth and presses his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling together. And then he rises, gives her one last long look, and then he is gone.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He takes her bending — destroys her, as he promised. She storms the Equalist base with Mako, determined to end things once and for all. When she feels his fingers on her neck, his thumb pressing against her forehead, she looks up at him desperately, trying so badly to get a glimpse of those gold eyes that she knows are capable of love and softness. But all she sees is his mask. He is cold and so far away, watching her blankly as she falls apart.

But she rises, nonetheless, and in turn she destroys him. When he rises from the waters, mask vanished, she sees him for what he truly is. A man whose heart was never hollow, but far too full. Full of anger and sadness and self-loathing and a deep, painful loneliness he spent years running away from but could never quite escape. A man who had to hide behind a mask because he was a liar and a coward. He stares at her above his tornado of water, gasping in the cold city air as he looks at her. His gold eyes are wide in fear and anger, and an unwarranted sense of betrayal. He is the exact mirror of what she was just a few minutes ago. Korra stares back and says nothing.

Then his face shuts and he is swimming away, fast enough for him to escape Mako’s furious blows. Korra collapses onto the floor, shattered into pieces, and she knows that things will never be the same again. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the years that follow, she faces enemy after enemy, each threat deadlier and more dangerous than the last. They take everything. Her power, her connection to her spirits, her identity, her happiness and self-esteem. But none of them hurt her as much as he did. She does not mourn any of them after they are defeated, not like she quietly mourned him. 

When Kuvira’s army falls, Korra leaves to travel the world. She’s grown used to it, during her fruitless search for Raava, and finds the wanderlust setting back in. She packs a small bag, says her goodbyes, and sets off on what she knows will be a long voyage. She travels oceans, forests, jungles, cities and towns. She meets good people and bad ones, eats new foods, pets different animals, and writes letters to everyone back home. 

Every so often she will catch a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror or a lake. She looks so different it takes her own breath away. Blue eyes that are wary and careful, hair cut short to her chin, body slimmer and her muscles more taut. But she always smiles, because there were times she thought she would never get here. She achieved her goals and proved everyone wrong. The world is at peace. She restored balance. And though it might not last, she sure as hell will. 

‘Hey lady,’ says a little kid in a marketplace one day. She’s in a tiny Earth Kingdom village, having spent the past few days there, enjoying the beautiful scenery of its mountains. She has taken to hiking all the way up to the top and then leaping off the edge, flying all the way down on her glider. It never fails to make her shriek with glee and her heart pound.

She’s at the market, surveying a variety of fish. The trader swore up and down they were fresh from the Southern Water Tribe, and Korra’s careful to make sure he’s not scamming her.. 

The child in question is around Meelo’s age, grinning up at her with a big toothy smile. ‘You look like the Avatar! Is she your sister or something?’ 

Korra gives him a smirk. ‘Cousin, actually. I’m glad you can see the family resemblance.’ 

The kid cackles and runs away, probably off to tell his friends he just met the Avatar’s cousin. That’s another thing that’s changed. While she once enjoyed the limelight that came with her title, in recent years, Korra has naturally come to shrink away from it. Perhaps a fear of being unable to meet people’s expectations still runs deep. Either way, she shrugs and goes back to eyeing the fish selection, and lifts her head to ask the vendor something. 

She looks up and sees him.

He is a few stalls down, carefully analysing a selection of hunting knives. Even though she can only see him from the side, she immediately recognises him. He looks older and more weathered, grey hairs setting in around his forehead, lines at the corner of his eyes and mouth. But his shoulders are as broad as ever, his jaw still possessing the same tightness, and she knows that even here, he is haunted. He is wearing Earth Kingdom clothes, the green complimenting his tanned skin.

But how? How is he alive? She was told he died, along with his brother, in a powerful explosion on their getaway boat. Unless Korra is seeing ghosts or spirits, it’s got to be him.

She stares at him with disbelieving eyes, and she realises her heart is pounding in fear. That old fear she hasn’t felt in years and years has risen up within her so quickly she hates herself.

He feels his eyes on her and looks up. For a second, his eyes are blank as he fails to recognise her, looking back at her in polite confusion. Korra inhales sharply, grips her bag turns and walks away, ignoring the vendor who calls after her. 

She is barely out of the marketplace when the tears begin to fall. What an idiot. All the monsters she’s destroyed, and the sight of just one has left her so rattled. She sniffs and brushes them away angrily, but then she feels a hand on her shoulder and she spins around.

It’s him. His eyes are wide with a swirl of emotions as he looks down at her, his touch startlingly gentle. They stare at each other for a long moment, stunned. Korra feels a tear make its way down her cheek, but before she can brush it away, he reaches out to do it for her. The movement is tender and soft, and it reminds her of that last desperate night they shared all those years ago. She remembers every detail of it with a frantic clarity. She should hate him. She wants to hate him. But she can’t, and she realises now that she never will. 

Korra swallows thickly, lets out a sob, and then he is moving toward her and wrapping his arms around her tight. She doesn’t protest, doesn’t pull away or try to escape. Instead she breathes in his scent and his warmth as he reaches up to stroke her hair. She relaxes against him, going dizzy with how right it feels. To anyone else in the street they must look like a normal couple, but she could laugh with the true knowledge of how broken they are. 

Korra isn’t sure how she found him or why, but if her time as the Avatar has taught her anything, it’s to not question the ways of the world. It could be fate, or the spirits, or Raava herself. It could be pure luck and coincidence. All that matters is that they are here, now, together. 

He runs his fingers through her hair and sighs, whispering her name like a prayer: _‘Korra.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amon definitelyyy thinks it's due to the Powers That Be that the two of them reunited, thats why he's all heart eyes @ korra pretty much straight away. 
> 
> thats the end of this fic, thank you so much for reading! hopefully you guys enjoyed the ending and it wasnt too cheesy or rushed. i knew once feelings got involved i had to have a happy-ish conclusion , i love them too much. 
> 
> thank u for reading and for leaving kudos. i love reading comments and it always means a lot to me and makes me super happy. you guys are so nice. i really appreciate it!! *cries*
> 
> oh and happy xmas!! think of this as my gift to you <3 <3 bye bye bye bye!


	6. Chapter 6

‘So where are you staying?’

Korra looks down at the cup of rapidly cooling tea in her hands, inhales slowly and replies, ‘A hostel near the marketplace.’

‘A hostel?’ he repeats, genuinely surprised. ‘Rather unglamorous for the Avatar.’ 

Korra winces a little bit. It’s been very long since anyone actually addressed her as that. Besides the stiff, formal letters from Tenzin back home, she had been allowed to slip away from that part of herself, and in turn she had grown rather comfortable with being known simply as Korra. A drifter, a stranger, a traveller passing between the two Worlds. 

‘I’ve never been much interested in glamour,’ she says, glad her voice doesn’t tremble. ‘Or fame. Y’know, that whole Republic City lifestyle.’ She sighs, waving a hand dismissively. The memory of it is enough to make her stomach churn. Because along with that fame and idolisation and power came painful scrutiny; every mistake magnified, examined, analysed by a public who would never understand. The Air Nomads had the right idea, detaching themselves from worldly things.

It’s late in the afternoon, and they are in his kitchen. His home is a small, humble one, perfect for someone as disciplined and simple as him. She can tell straight away that he lives alone. He lead her straight to the kitchen after they walked back together from the market, but she notices a bedroom, the door closed, and a small sitting room decorated only with a bookshelf and a threadbare carpet. Light blue, a few shades lighter than her eyes, the intricate Water Tribe designs of oceans and fish so reminiscent of home that it takes her breath away. 

Korra sits at the tiny dinner table as he leans against the kitchen sink, arms crossed as he surveys her carefully. She is uncomfortable under his gaze, the openness of his golden eyes. The familiarity of earlier has all but vanished from Korra, though he appears very much at ease with her presence in his home, his life. She sips at the tea, grimaces at the taste of the cold liquid, and flushes when he chuckles. The sound of his laughter makes something deep within her ache. 

‘I’m still working on my tea-making skills, I’m afraid,’ he tells her. ‘And I don’t have guests often.’ 

Korra nods in what she hopes is an understanding manner, taking a more ambitious gulp of the tea this time. ‘How long have you been living here?’

He clears his throat. ‘Two years. I knew I couldn’t return to the Water Tribe, not with everyone searching for me there. The Earth Kingdom is a large country with its fair share of fugitives and runaways. It’s easy to disappear here.’ He pauses, tilts his head to the side. ‘Is that why you’re here, Korra? To disappear?’ 

Korra feels anger rise within her. She raises an eyebrow and tells him, ‘I’m the Avatar, not a criminal or a fugitive. I can’t just disappear.’ 

The harshness in her voice surprises her, and for a split second she is afraid he will lash out, that he will revert back to the man who haunted her dreams for years. But he merely nods, eyes softening in apology. She hates this — how open he has become, how soft; how expression flows so freely from him when it was something so beloved and coveted and exclusively hers.

The reality of her situation strikes her suddenly. This man is a criminal — presumed dead by the world, but still. She should be turning him in, ensuring he is locked up in jail forever. But the thought leaves her mind as quickly as it crossed it. Korra knows in her heart she would never be able to do such a thing. Is it because she has forgiven him? Or because she thinks he has changed? Or because that part of her, the young, naive, foolish part that truly once loved this man still exists somewhere deep within her?

‘I thought you were dead,’ she tells him, her voice quieter now. ‘I mean, we all did. They told us there was an explosion on the boat and that you and Tarrlok both died.’

He hums, eyes darkening in unrestrained sadness, and Korra knows at once that Tarrlok is dead. ‘There was an explosion. My brother sought to kill us both. I understand why he did it. We had dishonoured ourselves to the point of no return. But I survived. I was badly wounded, however.’ He lets out a short huff of laughter, lamenting the mysterious nature of life and death. In the fading sunlight, Korra can make out some more lightest fading scars over his neck and the side of his face.

She feels sorry for him. Tarrlok did many terrible things, but she knows he was not a bad man. He was misguided and lost, hopelessly running away from his sad reality, hiding — like Amon — behind endless masks. They were so much alike. Korra knows he must blame himself for what happened to his younger brother. She takes another sip of her tea and barely tastes the cold liquid, her mind filled with memories.

He clears his throat. ‘I hear you came close to death yourself,’ he says. 

Korra lets out a wry laugh — she can’t help it. ‘Many times.’

He nods, giving her a small, grim smile in response to her sudden laughter. ‘I read the newspapers,’ he explains. Then, his voice takes on a more hesitant tone, his brow furrowing. ‘But…you survived.’

Did she? Korra is genuinely curious about that. It is something she’s wondered for the past few years, something her parents and friends always bring up when remembering their shared past. It was tough, but you made it, Korra! Korra feels like part of her died in her fight against Zaheer. She felt like a ghost during her time healing, wandering the world in search of Raava, but she also felt so heavy and human with fear and self-loathing.  
Nowadays she feels much more free, even though she is alone. There’s nothing really left to anchor her to this world. She’s learned to quietly respect the fragility and vulnerability she once despised herself for. But still, it is sometimes shocking when she comes across her reflection in a mirror and actually sees her own face looking back at her: sullen, tired but there. She thought she would have faded away a long time ago.

‘I suppose I did,’ she replies, giving a small shrug. ‘It doesn’t always feel like it, though.’

He hums, and the silence of the kitchen pushes in on them once more. They both have a lot on their mind, namely the other. The sun slowly dips over the horizon and the evening begins to set in. Korra watches the sunset through the tiny window, blinking when she feels his heavy gaze on her. She inhales and looks down, sets the cup of tea on the table. 

‘I should be going,’ she says, feeling a little ridiculous. What will she do now? Just get up and walk away, thank him for the tea and the chat? Korra has considered her life difficult, lonely and stressful, but in this moment all she can think of is how weird it can be. 

She rises from the table and tucks her chair back in, finally turning back to face him. He looks a little startled, and Korra just can’t believe it. It’s him. It’s really, truly him, alive and well, standing in this little kitchen, as beautiful as the first night she saw him. Normal, human, not hollow but fleshed out. They stare at each other for a long, silent moment. By her side, her fingers twitch with the sudden desire to reach out and touch him.

But she then locks that part of her away. She turns and begins walking to the door, tightening her grip on her bag. ‘Thank you,’ she murmurs. 

When she reaches out to open the door, she feels his hand on her wrist. She turns around, startled and a little afraid, but he merely pulls her body to him. He wraps his arms around her, mimicking his embracing of her earlier in the market, but now they are alone it feels so much more intimate. 

She stands there stiffly, arms by her sides; feels him inhale the scent of her hair, his lips against her ear as he whispers her name like a prayer. ’Korra,’ he says.

Goosebumps rise on Korra’s skin. She stands very still, wanting to hold him, but unable to find it in herself to do so.

He speaks again. ‘Stay with me.’ 

She breathes shakily, her heart beating so hard she is sure he can feel it. An old, familiar dance from a lifetime ago. 

‘Alright,’ she says.

 

\---

 

 

 

He makes her another cup of tea, but instead of having her drink it in the kitchen, he leads her to the small sitting area. Korra sits on the small sofa, cradling the second cup as her toes play with the rug. She can’t stop staring at the mesmerising Water Tribe patterns.

‘I got it from the marketplace,’ he says, voice fond. ‘A Southern Water Tribe trader was in town for a few days, and he had a wide collection of items. This one was rather expensive, but I couldn’t say no.’ 

Korra smiles to herself, and she is truly surprised with how quickly he has adapted to such a simple and humble life. In the Equalists’ heyday, he was just as big a celebrity as she was.

She looks up and finds him openly staring at her. His expression is unreadable, but if she were to guess she would describe it as a mix between joy and anxiousness. She flushes a little bit under the intensity of his gaze. 

‘What is it you do?’ she asks, taking a sip of tea to busy herself. 

‘I fish, mostly. But I also hunt. It’s a rather straightforward job — stable, too.’

She raises an eyebrow, but after some consideration, she decides it is rather fitting. 

Korra nearly chokes on her tea when he casually adds, ‘I don’t bloodbend to kill the animals, by the way.’

She splutters madly. ’I didn’t say you did!’ 

‘But you were thinking it,’ he says, and Korra sees he is smiling.

She mutters, more to herself than him, ‘I never thought Amon would have a sense of humour.’ 

His smile falters, and he shrugs. ‘I’m not Amon.’

He says it so simply and so frankly, and Korra envies him for being able to come to terms with himself. He has had years to think and lament and regret, but so has she, and she doesn’t feel like she’s made much progress at all. Meanwhile here he is, living in some small nondescript village, quiet and happy and peaceful.

It makes her a little bit angry. 

‘So all that bullshit you were spouting,’ she says coldly, ‘About benders having to be wiped out, of the Avatar having to be destroyed. You don’t believe in that anymore?’

‘No,’ he says, tilting his head to the side in confusion at her suddenly angry tone. ‘Were non-benders the victims of serious oppression and inequality in Republic City? Of course. You believed that, too. That’s why a non-bending President was elected with your blessing.’ He leans back in his chair, gaze never leaving her. ‘But no. I don’t believe in the rest of it. I don’t think the Avatar and benders should be destroyed. Only the really, really bad ones.’

His voice is so deadpan and dry it’s easy for her to recognise he’s been sarcastic. But she doesn’t laugh. ‘Do you still use waterbending?’ she asks.

He shrugs again. ‘Only when necessary. It still feels a little…wrong.’

She can’t blame him. He must find it difficult to disassociate it from bloodbending, having been forced to master one after the other, and keep both secret during his days as Amon. But that brings her to another issue.

‘If you're not Amon,’ she says, ‘Who are you?’

She’s not sure if he’ll remember, but she has asked him this question before, in the darkness of a night many years ago. When he was a tyrant in a mask and she was nothing more than a half-baked Avatar. He hadn’t answered her then, not really; he’d shown her part of his soul but not the entire thing, and then he had disappeared forever.

But now he smiles gently, as though he hasn’t just remembered, but has been waiting for her to ask all this time. ‘Noatak,’ he says.

 

 

—

 

 

Noatak kisses her slowly. Takes her face in his warm, big hands and pulls her face close to his, pressing their lips together. Korra lets him, gripping his wrist with a shaking hand of her own. Before long, he is running his tongue against her bottom lip, and she can feel his hardness pressing against her thigh. She realises he is just as desperate as she is, and wonders how long it has been for him. She opens her mouth with a sigh, feeling his tongue slip inside.

It’s been so long since she was kissed like this, touched like this, felt someone crave her like this. He moves his hands from her face to bury them in her hair and she holds onto him tight as he kisses her deeply, trying to drink her up.

But then he is pulling away suddenly, eyes dark with lust as he takes in the sight of her. 

Korra holds back a whine, trying to figure out what’s wrong. ‘What?’ she demands.   
He swallows, licking his lips. ‘We can go slow,’ he says. 

Korra grins, and for a moment she feels like her old self: cocky and self-assured. ‘We can,’ she agrees. ‘But I don’t want to.’

And with that, she reaches down to palm him through his pants, fingers stroking his growing length. His breath catches in his throat at her actions, eyes widening in surprise. Then he is kissing her again — deeper and more desperately, hunger radiating from him. Korra’s eyes flutter shut as he pushes her to the hard floor, laying her down on her back.

He pulls away again to tear off his own clothes, pulling his pants down so his cock springs free, already leaking precum. She almost feels bad for how her mouth waters and entire body aches with longing for it, her mind flashing back to the way he made her cry and moan and scream. She flushes with excitement, knowing there will be time for that and more. 

Noatak removes her clothes with movements so slow and careful it could drive her mad — he obviously wants to savour this, and she can’t blame him for that. Then they are both naked, breathing a little heavily, staring at one another as he kneels above her. The enormity of their situation hangs above them — all the years they spent apart, and how impossible it seems that they are finally together. Korra closes her eyes again as he reaches for her waist, fingers stroking the soft skin of her abdomen like she is precious. She has never been insecure about her body, never. But in this moment she can’t help but feel a little apprehensive. 

‘You’re the first person to touch me in a long time,’ she hears herself whisper.

He pauses for a long moment, and when she opens her eyes he is looking at her with such tenderness and love it takes her breath away. Then he is slipping his hands between her thighs to spread her legs, shifting so he is now kneeling between them. She wonders if he can feel the heat radiating from her core, if he can see in her face how much she needs him inside her.

‘Please,’ is all she can say.

When he enters her, she lets out a long, quiet moan, and all she can think is finally. He sighs as his cock pushes deep inside her. It feels so good, heavy and thick; a feeling she never thought she would experience again. She feels her clit throbbing as his length grazes the top of her wet folds, and when he begins to move she comes alive. 

He fucks her slowly, paying her previous remarks no heed, but each thrust is so powerful and deep it leaves her dazed. He holds her by the ass, squeezing the softness of her cheeks so hard she’s sure there will be marks for days. Her mouth waters and she throws her head back, fingers scrabbling at the wood floor as he slips out so only a few inches of his cock is inside her before slamming back inside, hitting that sweet spot perfectly. He isn’t Amon anymore, but is it wrong if she is glad that this part of him has not changed? The part that makes it so easy for him to claim her body as his, to fuck her so hard she sees stars. No one else has ever made her feel so good. As though reading her mind, he lets out a deep satisfied groan, and begins fucking her faster. 

He reaches down to thumb her clit roughly, making Korra gasp in surprise. His eyes are wild and desperate, his mouth open ever so slightly as Korra tries to move her hips in time with his. Every brush of his fingers against that spot leaves her a mess; before long she is openly crying, feeling the tears roll down her cheeks. His hands leave her ass to brush the tears away, and then he is leaning in and kissing her deeply as he continues to move inside her. She kisses him back, inhaling the musky scent of his sweat and the heat emitting from his body. 

Neither of them last very long, and her stomach lurches in excitement knowing it doesn’t matter; they’ll have so much time to rectify that, again and again. She comes first; reaching her mind-blowing peak with a cry that is muffled by his lips, her legs shaking violently. She feels him smiling as she comes back to earth, face wet with her own tears. He comes soon after that, thrusting one last time before pulling out and stroking his length wildly, panting as he comes in spurts over her bare chest and stomach.

He collapses onto his side right next to her, and the world is silent except for their shallow breaths. It is late at night by now, with the whole house dark except for where the moonlight shines and casts shadows over the furniture. She stares at the ceiling, eyes wide in the darkness. It all feels like one of their secretive meetings so long ago, and it would make her feel terrible and ashamed and afraid, but when he reaches out to pull her close to him she knows he will be there in the morning.

He props himself up on one arm and gazes down at her dreamily. Korra tries not to drift off into sleep as he plays her dark locks in the most relaxing manner. 

‘You cut your hair,’ Noatak says, as though he only just realised it.

She hums. ‘Do you not like it?’

He lets out that small huff of laughter. She wants to memorise that sound. ‘No, I do. It looks beautiful. You’ve always been beautiful, Korra.’

She can’t remember the last time she felt beautiful. Hearing him tell her so, with such certainty in his voice, makes her think there might be some truth to his statement. 

‘I love you,’ she tells him, because she does, she always has, and she does not want the night to end without him knowing. Saying it aloud makes her feel stronger than she has in years. 

Although the room is dark, she can see a smile on his face, and in his eyes a look of unguarded, unbelieving joy. He traces her lips with his fingers and says, ‘I love you, too, Korra. And I want you to stay with me.’

She yawns, feeling like it is all rather simple. ‘Then I’ll stay.’

His smile widens in happiness, and he lays himself down beside her on the floor, arms wrapping around her tight. She melts against him and his warmth, and they fall asleep in seconds.

 

 

 

——

 

 

Korra stays with him. 

She gets used to life in the small village, and she embraces her new lifestyle with relative ease.

When she wakes up in the mornings, Noatak has already begun his day and has set off for work. Sometimes she will feel him press a soft kiss against her forehead, and will make a half-hearted, sleepy comment about waking up herself soon. But when the door shuts she falls back asleep, snoring loudly. 

Korra practises bending in the little garden outside his home, working her stances, kicking and punching with fierce determination. Earth, fire, air, water. Just in case, she tells herself. Just in case things go to shit, as they usually do in her life, and she has to be the big bad Avatar once more. Saviour of the world and whatnot. 

She meditates, slipping into the Spirit World for hours at a time. It’s honestly a rather excellent way to kill the time: the Spirit World is a lot of things, and boring is not one of them. She talks to Spirits. She talks to Raava. She thinks of the future, of her distant past lives and, sometimes, of her next life — whatever that may be. 

In the evenings, Noatak comes home tired, but his eyes light up when he sees her waiting for him. 

‘What?’ she grins. ‘Thought I’d run away?’

She makes the same joke every night, and he lets out a small laugh each time without fail. He walks over to Korra and wraps his arms around her, and she feels the tension leave his body as he relaxes against her.

‘I wouldn’t blame you,’ he mumbles into her hair, hands rubbing up and down her back.

‘Shut up,’ Korra says lightly, and takes him by the hand to lead him to the table for ‘dinner’. 

Contrary to popular belief, Korra is actually a pretty decent cook. Years of living and travelling alone has made her a lot more patient and a lot more resourceful. He eats each meal with quiet happiness, thanking her each time in a voice so grateful and pleased it makes her blush. 

 

 

===

 

 

 

She writes a letter to her family and friends, telling them she is alright — she is happier than ever, actually. But the world must know the Avatar will not be the politician and celebrity and pawn they are so desperate for her to be. Her mission will always be to use Raava’s light spirit to guide the world towards peace and balance, that is true, and that will never change. But she has fought and bled and nearly died for the world many times, so the least she deserves is a quiet life away from their roving eyes and demands and questions. Will she ever be the girl she once was? No. She will never be the same. But she can try to move on, and find happiness wherever she can, and she hopes they will respect her wishes to do so far away from them all. She is surprised with how easily the words comes to her, having thought writing her thoughts down would be next to impossible. 

She receives two letters in response. One from Tenzin, telling her although he is surprised and will miss her presence dearly, he is proud she has figured out who she is and the type of Avatar she wants to be. And although her connection to Aang is lost, she reminds Tenzin so very much of his father. She is welcome on Air Temple Island whenever she wants to visit. The second is from her parents, who tell her they love her and will miss her and only wanted what was best for her. Her father actually apologises for letting the White Lotus take her away all those years ago, suggesting that Korra would have been happier if she was given freedom from the very start, and that makes her feel terrible. But then the letter resumes it optimistic tone and goes on to be a lot more tongue-in-cheek, with her mother coyly saying that if Korra eventually finds a nice, handsome man to settle down with, she expects grandbabies and frequent visits to the South Pole. 

Korra actually reads that part aloud to Noatak, who sits opposite her on the table as he cuts an apple into pieces for her to eat, brow furrowing in bewilderment with each line she shares.

‘You hear that, Noatak? Babies,’ she says, opening her mouth to let him feed her a slice. ‘Shouldn’t be too difficult, considering your fetish for knocking me up.’

He flushes and says nothing, cutting the next slice a little too hard. Korra roars with laughter, feeling light with happiness. 

 

 

==

 

 

‘Good,’ breathes Noatak, exhaling shakily. ‘Good girl.’

It’s late in the afternoon, on one of Noatak’s days off. They have spent all day in his bed, arms wrapped around each other, legs intertwined. Now he is laying on the bed, completely naked, gripping Korra by the hips as she rides him. Unlike him she is still wearing clothes, clad in the soft white nightdress she bought only a few days ago from the marketplace. The thin material rides up and exposes her thighs as she moves up and down on his cock, mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back into her head each time she feels the thick length enter her.

‘Good girl,’ he repeats, voice cracking, and reaches around to smack her ass hard, making her let out a whine.

‘Again,’ she demands, and he laughs out loud before repeating the action, slapping her ass with a harsh palm.

‘You like it when I hit you?’ she hears him asks, and she looks down and sees him grinning up at her. He slaps her ass again and she hisses, which only makes his grin widen. ‘You little slut. Want me to hit you again?’

He spanks her ass a fourth time without waiting for her to confirm, but the moan she lets out is agreement enough.

Korra fucks herself even harder on his cock, digging her nails deep into his bare chest. He grunts, trying to snap his hips up in the same rhythm, pausing to spank her ass a few more times. He spills himself inside her, and she can feel each spurt of hot cum deep inside her, and she comes not long after that.

 

==

After, he makes her tea and brings it to her in bed as she lays on her side, fingers playing with the soft blanket that’s only half-covering her. 

‘Are you happy, Korra?’ he asks her suddenly, sitting down on the other side of the bed. 

Korra turns over, only to see he has his back to her. Frowning, she tells him, ‘Yes, I am.’

He nods at the wall, hands on his knees as though he wants to say something but is afraid to.

Korra says, ‘Are you?’

He turns at that, expression utterly bewildered, as though the mere suggestion of him being unhappy is outrageous. ‘Of course I am. I never thought I could be so happy. I never thought I could have—’ He stops himself.

Korra rolls over so she is on her stomach, and she reaches out to touch his arm, feeling her heart swell with tenderness. ‘Me?’ she finishes. She continues, a little forcefully, ‘Well, you do. I am yours. And I’m not going anywhere. So you’d better get used to it, alright?’ 

With that, she rolls over and resumes her original position, scowling a little at his temerity. 

She feels his eyes on her naked back, and thinks she must have shocked him into silence. Good. But then he is slipping behind her, and she feels his arm wrap around her waist and his chest press against her back. 

She reaches up to hold his hand. ‘I really mean it, you know,’ she says, tone soft. ‘I’m happy here. With you. There’s no place else I’d rather be.’

He is quiet for a long, long time, and she soon begins to think he has drifted off into sleep. But then, as the sun begins to set and casts an orange glow over the room, she hears him murmur against her ear so quietly she almost misses it: ‘I love you.’

Korra smiles and closes her eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok im really unhappy with this convoluted mess of a fic, you guys probably went in expecting #quality and i simply did not deliver, im truly sorry my loves


End file.
